


Lucky Face

by iamfinallyhere



Category: King Kong (2005)
Genre: Banter, First Kiss, Interrupted Kiss, M/M, Missing Scene, New York City, on a boat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4761461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamfinallyhere/pseuds/iamfinallyhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The other production assistants had called him 'lucky' as soon as they heard Preston was to accompany Carl Denham to Singapore for his latest production.</p><p>He doesn’t feel very lucky when the crack-whip slap of the rope hits his face. </p><p>["Missing Scenes" between Preston and Jimmy on the Venture and in New York.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky Face

The other production assistants had called him _lucky_ as soon as they heard Preston was to accompany Carl Denham to Singapore for Denham’s latest production.  
  
He doesn’t _feel_ very lucky when the crack-whip slap of the rope hits his face.

It sends Preston sprawling to the ground. The machete in his hand falls with a loud clatter and he has a brief moment of accomplishment when he sees the drawbridge come down before his head is spinning and all he can hear are the shouts of the men and the roars of the great ape.  
  
The animal’s cries are terrifying and angry yet the sailors hold fast to their Captain’s orders as Jack and Ann hurry across the now-lowered bridge with the large gorilla at their heels. Preston tries to stagger up to his feet and sways before slumping back down on his rear. One of the sailors throws a dirty handkerchief at his face and it takes him a moment to realize that he’s bleeding profusely from his cheek. The handkerchief smells of sweat and dirt but he holds it to his face to staunch the flow. His head is pounding and each sound, each gunshot feels like someone is throwing darts and the bullseye is his forehead, but then he hears _her._  
  
He hears Ann pleading with them amongst the din and the smell of something chemical and strong fills the air. The creature releases pained roars as the grappling hooks claw their way under his fur and pull him down until his face is above the chloroform puddles.  
  
_They have no right to be doing this_ , Preston protests yet unable to give it voice. _This creature belongs here on Skull Island_. He looks over at Carl who glances briefly at him with that manic gleam in his eye, full of promise and fortune. That this animal is being taken from its rightful home so forcefully against his will is of no consequence to the director. All Carl can see are full theatres packed to the brim of an eager, awed and paying audience.  
  
He catches Ann’s eyes as she’s being held by Jack. She looks at him, hopeful and pleading with her wide blue eyes; silently asking him to reason with the man. Preston looks away, shamed and useless. Carl doesn’t negotiate when dollars are on the line. Preston merely stands up and makes his way to the waiting boats.  
  
He doesn’t want to see this.  
  
It’s when one of the sailors sprints past him that he realizes that Carl and Englehorn’s plans have gone horribly awry.  


 

  
Preston sits on the Venture’s deck and stares out at the island, as still as the native statues covered in vines. The cloth at his cheek is stained red and his face is sore. He hisses when he attempts to remove the handkerchief and it sticks to his tender, flayed skin. The sounds of the men hauling the great ape on board and the clanking of the levers hurt his ears. He feels heaviness in his chest; an urge to shout and protest as Ann did until Jack took her into one of the cabins.  
  
“That’s a pretty nasty one you got there,” Jimmy’s voice is close and his breath brushes Preston’s ear.  
  
Preston chuckles bitterly and glances over at the young man as the young man sinks down next to him and cocks his chin at Preston’s cheek. “It’s what I get for trying to help,” Preston replies. He stares at the young man, well, _boy_ with interest. Jimmy couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen but the sag of his shoulders and the scars lining his arms and hands give him the air of a man who has been at sea more than he’s been on land.  
  
Jimmy catches his stare and shakes his head with a breathy laugh, “Nah, you did good out there. You did the right thing hacking that rope when you did.” He claps a calloused hand on Preston’s narrow shoulder. “Follow me, there’s an aid kit down below.”  
  
  
Jimmy’s cabin is small with two beds. Preston assumes the other occupant must be up top handling the beast. It’s immaculately clean on Jimmy’s side, Preston notes as he sits on the young man’s bed. The assistant winces when he feels the bars of the bedframe through the thin mattress. His own mattress was far from luxurious but it was not as sparsely stuffed as this one.  
  
“Here we are,” Jimmy huffs and sits next to him with a small first aid tin. “It’s not much and you might have a scar, but it won’t get infected.” He picks a glass bottle and gauze from the container and primly dabs the gauze with what Preston assumes is rubbing alcohol. Jimmy must see the apprehension on Preston’s face because he chuckles low, “It’s gonna hurt.”  
  
Preston swallows and closes his eyes, “Okay.”  
  
He jumps at the first delicate press that sends a jolt of searing pain through his face.  
  
“Buck up. I’ve had papercuts bigger than this,” Jimmy’s voice is smug and teasing. “I saw the rope hit ya. You’re lucky you even have a face after that.”  
  
Preston tries to grin and winces when it tugs at his wound.  
  
“Hey now, don’t move that pretty mug of yours,” Jimmy jokes, but the stern tone is subtle and not lost on Preston. He presses again and Preston tries not to flinch away, but does on reflex. “So…,” he begins conversationally. “Let’s have a chat. Maybe that’ll get you through this.”  
  
Preston shrugs, “What a day, right?” The older man worries that he’s said the wrong thing when he senses Jimmy pull away. “I’m sorry. That was-.”  
  
“It’s been a bad day for everyone,” Jimmy murmurs. “Mostly everyone,” he tacks on bitterly.  
  
Preston doesn’t have to guess who the _mostly_ could be referring to and there’s an apology already on his lips for his boss’s behavior when Jimmy lets out an aggressive snort.  
  
“He doesn’t care about anyone or anything, does he? That Denham,” Jimmy continues. His voice grows until it fills the small cabin. “We’re all expendable. It’s not like we have lives or people we care about ourselves! That _thing_ has taken so much from us already. We either need to kill it or leave it on the island.”

“The arrogance of man,” Preston adds, feeling his fury stir in his belly. “We underestimated _nature_ and lost.” The assistant scoffs, “Y’know, Carl talks about the mysteries of the world with such wonder… and in the same breath sets plans to destroy them.” When Preston opens his eyes, Jimmy is staring at him with brows set in a frown. “I’m s-sorry,” Preston sputters out. “I know that the others were your friends-”  
  
The young crewman shakes his head, “Don’t apologize.”  
  
Preston blanches, “What do you mean?”  
  
Jimmy stares at him again as he did on the deck. “You’re just… You’re not Denham.”  
  
Preston nods his head almost imperceptibly and lowers his eyes to focus on the exposed hollow of Jimmy’s throat. He thinks about soft lighting and camera filters when the sheen of sweat catches the light from the dim naked bulb above them. He watches the muscles flex under tanned skin as the other man clears his throat.  
  
“Well,” Jimmy holds up the wet gauze. “Shall we?”  
  
Preston nods and closes his eyes again. There are rough finger tips on his chin, gently turning his face. He hisses when Jimmy pats the gauze against the wound again. The stinging sensation seems bearable now so he remains still.  
  
“There we go,” Jimmy whispers encouragingly.  
  
The assistant feels Jimmy’s breath beat against the corner of his mouth. It makes him minutely lick the edge of the inside of his own lip in reflex. It doesn’t go unnoticed because Jimmy pauses, hand hovering over Preston’s cheek. The older man allows his face to be turned frontward once more and when he opens his eyes, it’s Jimmy’s face filling his vision. Jimmy’s gaze flicks from Preston’s eyes to his wound and finally down to his mouth. The younger man breathes in deep before tilting his head and leaning in hesitantly.  
  
The one loud knock is the only warning they have when Jimmy flies to the other side of the room just before the door abruptly opens. He paces anxiously with shaking hands on his hips, nerves visibly frayed.  
  
“I heard you’re patching people up here,” Bruce strides in pompously and surveys the scene. He holds up his forearm and points to a thin cut running the length of it. “I’m in need of aid.”  
  
Bruce plops on the bed next to Preston and clucks his tongue, “The kid’s got you fixin’ yourself up? Give me that thing.” He plucks the gauze from where Jimmy tossed it on the bed and presses it clumsily against Preston’s cheek. Preston jerks back at the harsh sting and looks over at the sailor. Jimmy is openly glaring at the actor on his bed, but Bruce either doesn’t notice or simply does not care.  
  
Preston sighs and lets Bruce press the gauze all over his cheek in his brutish attempt at healing.

 

  
Preston and Jimmy don’t speak during the rest of their voyage home. Jimmy takes comfort with his sailor brethren and mourns those they lost. Preston stays with Jack and Ann, mourning those _they_ lost although they were merely a collection of strangers before this voyage; nothing near comparable to _the Venture_ ’s crew.  
  
When they disembark in New York, Preston turns back to the ship. Jimmy is leaning on the rail, a copy of _Heart of Darkness_ dangling from his fingers. He gives Preston a small wave before turning away.

  
  
Preston takes a leave of absence from his production company, citing exhaustion from his recent trip. Carl signs off on his request and he doesn’t see the man for two months. He hears from here and there about Carl’s plans for the giant gorilla and almost rips up the elaborate invitation with the admission tickets that arrive in his mail a week before he’s set to return to work.  
  
_Preston,_  
I hope this invitation and these tickets find you well. It would mean a great deal to me if you were at the opening of the show this Friday.  
\- Carl  
P.S., How’s the face doing?  
P.P.S., Also, you’re lucky to even get these tickets. They’re front row and I had people wanting them for thirty bucks a pop!  
  
  
  
“Glad to see that you healed up nicely.”  
  
Preston is outside his apartment’s front door, returning from a harrowing experience at the tuxedo shop  in which the tailor had pinned more his skin than actual fabric. The familiar voice startles him out of his misery.  
  
“J-Jimmy,” he stutters out. “What-? How?”  
  
“I have my ways,” is all Jimmy says as he strides up to the older man and leans on his doorframe. “Went to England for a bit and came back. We’ve got some leave before we’re out again.”  
  
He hasn’t changed much in the few months since Preston had seen him last. He’s still all lithe muscles underneath blue collar clothes, only these ones seem to be a bit cleaner than his usual seafaring ware. Preston can see Jimmy strolling down the busy New York street with the swagger that only a man who has seen the world can embody, all cocksure smirk and tanned skin. The looks the boy must have received on his way here… Preston can imagine because Preston knows he’d be looking.  
  
… _Is_ looking.  
  
_Quite_ obviously if the ever-growing pleased grin on Jimmy’s face is any indication.  
  
“You going to let me in?” Jimmy preens confidently.

  
  
Preston doesn’t have the door fully closed behind them before he’s pressed back against it.  
  
“Wh-what is the meaning of this?” The assistant stammers, face red and eyes wide behind his thin-rimmed glasses.  
  
“Finishing what we started,” Jimmy grins cryptically.  
  
“What-?” Preston questions before the realization dawns on him when Jimmy looks at his mouth. “Oh.”  
  
Jimmy nods with a smile, “Yeah.”  
  
Preston stares at the young sailor, frozen. “I’ve never had … ‘relations’ with a man, so you’re going to have to tell me what to do here.”  
  
Jimmy huffs, “Oh come on.” He grabs the back of Preston’s neck and pulls him roughly towards him. Jimmy slams his mouth on Preston’s and Preston feels his lip split, but that doesn’t matter because Jimmy is kissing him like he’s starved for attention; attention that Preston is all too willing to give. It’s fast and their teeth clack together at times, but it’s the most passionate and raw thing Preston’s felt. When Jimmy pulls away, Preston’s left without breath with hands pressed back against the door for support.  
  
“Couldn’t find a cute English girl?” Preston’s voice hitches as Jimmy’s mouth slides down his jaw.  
  
“Nah, too proper,” Jimmy replies breathlessly and latches his lips onto the corded muscle in Preston’s neck. “Didn’t like my accent.”  
  
Preston laughs and lets the younger man mark up his neck, “Oh?”  
  
“Also, they couldn’t stand to get a little _dirty_ ,” Jimmy elaborates and pulls back with an accomplished grin as he watches a spot on Preston’s neck grow dark with a bruise.  
  
Preston tucks his finger into Jimmy’s pockets and tugs their hips flush. It’s unusually brazen of him and he feels a bit proud at the small whimper it pulls out of Jimmy’s throat. “Yeah?” He rocks their hips together the way his high school sweetheart used to and watches as Jimmy’s lips part in a silent gasp. He is glad to see the move work on Jimmy as it did him and any thought of Rebecca from European History is dashed from his mind when Jimmy sinks to his knees.

“Mm-hmm,” Jimmy merely hums.  
  
“I guess you’re in luck then,” Preston chuckles and reaches down to sweep Jimmy’s hair from his eyes. He rests his finger tips on Jimmy’s cheek, strokes it with the back of his knuckles. “I don’t mind much about getting dirty at all.”  
  
Jimmy smiles and leans into the affectionate gesture.  
  
 “Lucky me.”  
  
  
  



End file.
